I'm fortunate enough to be able to do what I want to do for a living. I make up stories. Profanity-laced comedy tales about angry, bitter, frustrated man-children who are trapped in a world they don't fully understand. In other words, I write what I know.

Comedy is hard. And the type of comedy I write is not for everyone. A lot of what I write is bound to piss certain people off.

Hopefully, these people.

I'm in this business to make money. I have a family to support, and I sure as shit don't want to have to go back to working a real job. So there's always a little nagging voice inside my head asking me if I really want to push the publish button on a story or blog post I've just finished writing. Am I going to lose readers? Is this going to make people unlike my Facebook page? Does it make me look fat?

Pissing off the wrong people can be harmful to your career. Pissing off the right people, on the other hand, can lift you to new heights.

So who are the right people to piss off? In my case, it's mostly idiots, douchebags, and shitheads. These people are not part of my target audience, and I have nothing to lose and everything to gain by pissing them off, even if it's only the personal satisfaction of having done so.

"Why, I reckon he's tryin' to make me look stupid."

For example, two weeks ago I wrote a blog post about Donald Trump. Politics may seem like a topic I'd be well-advised to stay away from, for fear of alienating half of my potential readers. But consider the type of lowlife pieces of shit who support Donald Trump. Those people don't read books.

On my Facebook page that day, I lost three likes and gained twenty. That's a far better haul than I normally get as the result of a blog post. Now, if I were in the business of selling Klan robes or VHS copies of Hee Haw, I might refrain from writing a less-than-flattering post about Trump. But I'm in the business of selling books, so I try to appeal to a more literate crowd.

My books in particular are ill-suited to inbred fucktards. Not very well hidden beneath all the swearing and loincloth-shitting, they play with themes of bigotry and intolerance. My characters are reflections of what I like to believe is a transition-in-progress in the American south.

"I love America!... and, uh... treason against it?"I didn't say it was a fast-moving transition. Believe it or not, some of these people aren't very bright.

Let me tell you a little bit about me and where my stories come from. I was raised in a conservative Catholic family in the suburbs of New Orleans. While that may bring forth images of an endless parade of jazz bands and strippers, I regret to inform you it was nothing like that. The neighborhood I grew up in was just like any predominantly white Christian neighborhood, filled with fear of ethnic minorities and reverence for a two thousand year old inexplicably white guy from the Middle East. This was my normal.

The best thing I ever did was get the hell out of here for fourteen years. Meeting people from different countries and backgrounds forced me to challenge some of what I'd grown up with and always just taken for granted.

Maybe I hadn't been so lucky as to have been coincidentally born in a specific time and place, the beliefs and values of which just happened to reflect the ultimate, unquestionable truth of the universe. Maybe that man in the dress who passes out flattened circular pieces of an alcoholic bread-zombie is not, in fact, privy to the secrets of the cosmos.

"This is blood? I hope he's not planning on driving anywhere."

And maybe, just maybe, the universe wasn't created by a space-wizard who has an unhealthy obsession with where the inhabitants of a tiny speck of his creation put their genitals.

Might the values I'd grown up with have possibly been born of fear, ignorance, and superstition? It would be fun to write characters who are struggling with those same realizations, and then throw them into a fantasy world (with its own brands of fears, ignorance and superstitions) where their instinctive prejudices and woefully inept attempts to overcome them would be a source of comedy.

And one of them could shit himself a lot. Comedy gold.

So yeah. Sometimes I write stuff that pisses off stupid people. And since that's been working out so well for me, I'll likely continue to do so. If you want some inoffensive comedy, go watch Full House or some shit. I don't know what else to tell you.

But as I stated above, the twenty people who took their place taught me the more-valuable lesson which I sought to share with you in today's post.

If you scroll down to the comments section, you'll find a comment by the esteemed Mr. Billy Goddamnit.

He hails from a long proud line of Goddamnits.

If that's too small to read, I'll sum up. Mr. Goddamnit gives me his life story, something about how he was offended by my blog post, and then says that he enjoyed my first three books, and was about to buy the fourth one, as well as some of the short stories and even more copies for his gamer friends. But then, because of my transgressions against him, he instead decided to get a refund on the three books he had already purchased.

I gotta say, man. That hit me pretty hard. I needed to reevaluate my life and shit.

After all, Billy Goddamnit is no Trump supporter. He's a single father and a veteran. He had candidates from four different parties on his ballot last election. He does research on a Fortune 5 company! This is no idiot. This is a free thinker and a patriot, as honest as the day is long, who just couldn't stand for my insults of people who would support a racist clown.

I want you to know, Mr. Goddamnit, that I have indeed learned a lesson today. Who am I to stereotype and generalize a whole group of – Hold up... What's this?

Oh dear. It appears as though I've only had one return of Critical Failures this month, (And that was from earlier in the month. I keep a pretty close eye on these things.) and no returns of Critical Failures II, III, or IV.

I don't know what to think now. Could Billy Goddamnit (if that's even your real name!) possibly be making shit up to teach me a valuable lesson? Could he possibly be stupid enough to think that I wouldn't check to confirm that three of my books had been returned? Oh yeah... He's probably a Trump supporter, so I guess stupid kinda just runs in his veins.